Unlikely Safety
by TakenStars
Summary: Perhaps the youngest person to walk the streets has her life saved by a literal Saint. Knowing that walking the streets wearing purple is a death sentence, she still goes to the meeting. Her unique appearance gives her a strange advantage against the Saints' rival gangs, but life on the streets is never easy. Still, it's safer than her being at home.


Unlikely safety

Getting a white hoodie was the worst choice. Wiping some more blood from both my chin and nose, I glared at the bright red spots across the sleeves, shaking my head as I turned the corner. Looks like I'm gonna be sleeping outside again. There's no way I'm going back home. Maybe I can scrape up a few dollars and get a new hoodie so I don't get stopped by the cops…

"Watches! I got watches!" I only glanced at the guy holding the briefcase. "Yo girl, why don't you buy a watch for your man? Aw, whatever. Watches, I got watches!" I didn't look at him again, just in case he got nasty.

"Hey, baby girl." A lady who I guess was a ho put a hand on my shoulder and bent over to look me in the eyes. "Shouldn't you be in bed? It's pretty late." People don't show concern for me very often.

"Aw, hell no!" She let go of me and turned around, looking at three guys in yellow standing in front of a wall. I think they're Vice Kings. I don't get involved with gang stuff. They just leave me alone if I keep my hood up.

"Man, fuck the Rollerz!" Aren't they the blue ones? I didn't pay attention to what they said after. I was looking for an escape route.

"We're about to have a turf war." The Ho said, backing up a few steps. Some of the actual people in blue walked over to the Kings as they were painting part of the wall.

"The fuck you think you're doin'?" One asked, tapping a baseball bat against the floor.

"Jus' bein' civic minded, is all." The fat King said back.

"That so?"

"Yeah," The guy with the spray paint said. "Some dumb ass cracka went and shit all over this wall, and we jus' cleanin' it up." As the baseball bat hit the side of his head, I grinned. Looks like we've got a show. As fists started to fly, I felt a hand on the sleeve of my hoodie.

"C'mon, girl. We don't want to be hangin' around gangs if they're fighting." I looked at the ho for a few seconds before pulling my arm back.

"They're just throwing punches." She flinched back. I think my mouth is still bleeding. "It's not that dangerous." We had to step back as one of them stumbled past, the spraycan hitting the back of his head. The worry in her face grew as a car engine could be heard getting closer. A red car pulled up, three guys sat in it.

"Hector says 'Buenas Noches'…" Oh, shit.

"Move!" I pushed the Ho away from the gunfire, sending her down an alleyway. Most of them were dead on the floor when I looked back. A roller ran over with a rifle, spraying the car and killing the driver, making it lose control and smash into the wall. Well, it sent me flying before it hit the wall. As I landed, I felt my wrist bones shift, and my ankle twist underneath me.

"Damnit…" I hissed, trying to push myself up. Nowhere near the worst pain I've ever been in. I flicked my head to move of my hair out of my face, looking up at the sound of a gun click.

"Wrong time, wrong place, Bitch." The King said, holding his pistol level with my forehead. I closed my eyes, waiting for it. A shot ran out, but I didn't feel anything.

"You ok, Playa?" Opening one eye, I watched this random guy kneel down next to me and lift me to my feet by my arm.

"Julius, let's move." Another guy. Blonde, tall, bearded, wearing purple. The guy that pulled me up was wearing more black than purple. It kinda matched his skin tone. 'Julius' tried to pull my arm over his shoulder, but I was way too short. Instead, he held me by my waist and helped me limp away from the flaming car. We were barely out of the way of it when it exploded. The other guy fell flat on his face, scrambling up and glaring when I grinned.

"Your leg should be fine." Julius said, sitting me against a wall. I brushed some more of my shaggy hair out of my face. "That's Troy. You can thank him later." I nodded to him, and he waved it off. "The row ain't safe no more, son. Even somebody as small as you will get caught up in somethin' you didn't do." 'Son'?

"Julius, this is no time to recruit. Especially somebody this puny." I glared at him this time.

"We need all the help we can get, son." Julius looked back at Troy. "Besides, I saw how you helped that Ho get out of the firing line." I nodded.

"Julius, we need to get out asses out of here before the cops show."

"In a minute!" He turned back, almost putting a hand on my shoulder before I flinched away. "Look, the Row's got a problem. Come to the church if you want to be part of a solution." With that, they both got up and left. I just sat against the wall, holding my sprained wrist, wondering what just happened.

"Babygirl, you alright?" The Ho from before ran over to me and knelt down. "You got saved by a literal Saint."

"Were they part of a gang?" She nodded.

"The Third Street Saints. You had a run of good luck." Doesn't feel like it. "And you saved my ass, baby."

"You didn't deserve to be hit." She smiled through the dark makeup and helped me to my feet, looking at them when I winced at the pain in my ankle.

"Come on, baby. You can stay at my place tonight. Somebody your age shouldn't be walkin' the streets by themselves, day or night." She hooked her arm around mine and led me away. Well, at least somebody's nice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sleeping on a lumpy couch does nothing to help bruises. Something fell over, and my eyes snapped open.

"Sorry, baby girl!" The woman, who told me her name was Grey, was stood in the tiny kitchen, kneeling down to pick a spoon up. "I didn't mean to wake you!"

"It's ok." I sat up, pulling my hoodie back over my stomach. "I'm a light sleeper, anyway." It's a habit I've learned for my own safety. As I sat up, my hair fell over my face.

"Doesn't your hair bother you?" Grey asked. I still don't know how old she is, but she's pretty. She's also wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and a tank top. Her name also doesn't match because her skin is dark.

"I'm used to it." It hides my eyes. I really don't like my eyes. "Thanks for letting me sleep on your couch, by the way."

"You saved my life, babygirl!" She laughed, turning back to whatever she was cooking. "There's no need to thank me!" I pushed myself up and shoved my hands into my front pocket as I walked over to her.

"Are you actually a ho?" Grey nodded. Did she expect me to ask? "Why?"

"It pays the bills, babygirl." She motioned to a barstool with her spatula, and I pulled my short ass up onto it. "Don't you worry about me, though." As Grey turned around to me, she put a plate of what looked like eggs in front of me. "I can take care of myself." For a while, we just sat at the bar, Grey talking about her life, and me listening politely. I ate as much as I could, but I don't really have a large stomach. "Listen, baby." I didn't even realize that she'd finished her story. "I heard those Saints. Are you going to the church?"

"I don't know." I focused on my hands. They seem strong. They could keep me away from home.

"You'll get chewed up and spit out on the streets." I looked back up to Grey. "You're tiny, babygirl."

"I'm just short." That made her laugh.

"The life of a gangbanger is just begging for an early grave." An early grave…

"I'll probably go over there." Grey sighed. "If anything, I can see what they're about."

~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the end, I'd stayed at Grey's place for a day and a half. She said that she didn't want somebody as small as me roaming the streets by myself. I did help her clean her apartment up, so I wasn't entirely a freeloader. My 'home' is directly on the border of Saint's row, and the red light district. I've been told a few times that I'll be out there soon so I can 'earn my keep'. I really hate that thought.

"C'mon, Julius is about to speak!" A couple guys wearing purple ran past me, one knocking me of my feet. All I got was a 'sorry' thrown over one of their shoulders. I sighed, pushed myself to my feet, and dusted myself off. Guess that's where I need to go. I followed them around the corner, and… well, I guess that's where I need to go. I walked towards the run-down church, studying all of the people in purple. I don't know if this is a large gang or not. I fitted myself in at the back, where nobody would bother me. They'd most likely just look over my head.

"Every motherfucker here knows what we need to do." I looked up at the top of the church stairs, feeling a small amount of relief when I saw Julius. At least everybody here isn't a stranger. "Those bitches be ridin' around, thinkin' that they own these streets." Nobody really owns them, do they? They're just streets. "I don't care what flag they're flyin'… Rollerz, Carnales, Vice Kings… no-one's makin' this nigga scared to walk the Row. We're 'bout to lock this shit down… right now!" I glanced around at the people when they started cheering, but one shout in particular got my attention.

"Fuck yeah!" A guy turned to look around, eyes fixing on me with something between a confused look and a glare. I know my hair is always a mess, but at least I don't have frosted tips. "Who the fuck's this kid?"

"Troy and I found him," Do I really look that boy-ish? "I was gonna see if he wanted to ride with us."

"The kid is tiny!" I glared up at the guy, playing with my fingers in the pocket of my hoodie. "And you know Julius, if he wants to run with us, the kid's gotta be canonized." I'm not sure if I like the sound of that.

"Hey, he's right, Julius." I looked back up to Julius when Troy started to speak. "Everyone had to do it." The leader's eyes fixed on me. Pity wasn't something that I saw much of these days.

"You ready for this, Playa?" A couple of the guys started to surround me, grins on their faces.

"Maybe you'll want to take that hoodie off, kid." Troy said. "Looks like it'll be a handicap." I shrugged and pulled my hands out of the pocket. "Alright, whatever." I almost didn't see the first punch. I dropped to my knees just before it hit the side of my head. I grabbed the sleeve of the guy's shirt and kicked him in the stomach. I didn't do any damage, I'm too small, but it knocked him off balance, and he fell onto his ass when I let go of his sleeve. The next guy lifted me up by the front of my hoodie and started to slam his knee into my stomach, and then the ground when I clawed at his wrist. The breath was knocked out of my already pathetic lungs, but I swung my feet up and slammed both of them into his face, which is probably why the next guy stomped on mine. He ground his foot in a bit, which is why my hoodie tore off as the first one tried to pick me back up.

"Alright, that's enough!" Julius called out. I didn't move as the others moved away. I was staring at the sky, holding my bloody face. I couldn't properly see, but I felt Troy pull me to my feet.

"You earned your colours today." He tried to shake my hand but cringed away at the blood on it. He gave me a fist bump before somebody else walked over.

"Man, that's some impressive shit!" Dex called out. The only other Saint who kicked ass like that was Johnny." I think he just said that to be nice. I didn't even really hurt anybody. I'm the one with blood pouring out of my nose.

"Shit, took me half the time." Johnny grinned, patting his own chest. Julius walked over and did the same thing as Troy.

"Welcome to the Third Street Saints." As he walked back to the steps of the church, I picked the shreds of my hoodie up and held them to my nose, trying to stop it from bleeding so much. I moved to sit on top of a gravestone, ignoring the looks I got when the Saints saw the bruises on my arms. They're not important. "Let's get down to business. If we're serious about takin' back the Row, we gotta let those motherfuckers know what time it is. Now you break it down, and it's all about respect. Get enough of it, and they're gonna back off, and we're gonna move right on in." I remember Julius glancing at me quite a few times because my hoodie was slowly turning red. "We got some friends in town that could use some help. Give 'em a hand. 'Course, you can always drop any motherfucker flyin' the wrong flag. So long as word gets out that the Saints is on the Row, I don't give a damn how you do it. You feel me?" The people around me cheered, but I didn't want to get blood in my mouth. As they started to move away, I moved my destroyed hoodie away from my face to check if the bleeding had stopped, and then saw Troy walking over.

"You good, kid?" he asked, moving my ruined hoodie away from my face. I didn't talk, because he might notice how young I am. I just nodded to him. "You don't even have a piece, do you?" I shook my head. "C'mon. I'll buy you one." As he patted my shoulder, I started walking along behind him, to his car. "You're bleedin' a lot, kid. Are you gonna be alright?" He looked back to me as I nodded. "You don't talk a lot, do you?" He stopped trying. I just sat with him in his car and looked at the scraps of my hoodie. The car started up, and he started driving, flicking through a couple of radio stations before settling on one.

Is this really a new start for me? Holding the scraps of some of the only clothes I have to my fucked-up face? What kind of start is that? Well, this is still better than home.

"Kid. Hey, kid!" I flinched and looked at Troy. "What kinda daydream are you in?" He asked, sucking down the rest of his cigarette and flicking it out of the window. "C'mon. I'm only buyin' you a pistol, though. It's enough to get you started." I pushed myself out of the car and looked again at my hoodie. "Did it stop bleedin'? Finally. I thought I'd have to take you to the hospital or somethin'. C'mon." Before going into the store, I tossed the remains of my hoodie into a trash can, giving it one final look.

"Damn. What's the story here?" I looked up and met eyes with the guy behind the counter who leaned over to study me. He can't have seen much of my face. My hair was in the way of most of it. "Your hair matches the blood."

"Yeah, look, my, uh, my son, he needs something to defend himself from the other kids that are bullyin' him. He's tiny."

"I understand. There's a bathroom back here if you need to wash the blood off, son." I stared at him for another few seconds, but nodded and walked around the counter and into the bathroom, shutting the door tight behind me. You should never trust anybody. The bathroom was horrible, as I expected. The toilet and walls were stained, as was the sink. It was all an ugly yellow colour, with the mirror being cracked right in the middle for added effect. Thankfully, the water was clean. It took a while to get all the blood off, but when my face was clean, I wiped it on my shirt and stepped outside, bristling as two pairs of eyes fell on me.

"C'mere, kid." Troy said, waving me over. "I know that you can't pull a punch, so you're getting a pistol with low recoil."

"It doesn't do much damage," The clerk said, handing it to me. "So you need to aim." I looked it over. Cold steel. Power. Am I... am I really not helpless anymore? "I hope those, ehm, _bullies_ , won't hurt your son any more, sir."

"Fuck right they won't. What's that cost?" I passed it from hand to hand. It feels a lot better in my left hand. I raised it and held it sideways at the wall, like I've seen other gang members do. It just doesn't feel... right. I straightened my hand, and cupped the bottom of my left hand with my right one. Much better. "Kid, c'mon." I looked back at Troy and followed him out of the store, giving the clerk one last glance.

"Have fun with that, son." He gave me a creepy grin, and I shuddered as I stepped outside.

"I have to ask, are you gonna say fuckin' anything at all?" When I shrugged, he groaned and got into the car. I followed suit, gun still in hand. "Gimme that for a second." Troy took the pistol and clicked part of it so that it fell out. "This here's the ammo chamber. When it's empty, you grab another one of them," He dropped a plastic bag onto my lap. "And slam it in there, got it?" When I nodded, he handed me the gun and chamber. "Then show me." I tapped the metal together a few times, but managed to slam the chamber into the right place. Troy gave me an approving nod and took the gun again. That nod... did he mean it? He can't have. "When you've reloaded, you gotta cock the gun, see?" He told me, pulling the top part back until it clicked. "Got that?"

"Mhm." He jumped slightly as I hummed. I hope that sounded as low as I tried to get it.

"Well, uh, you're gonna want to put that ammo in your pockets, kid." Troy said, starting the car. "And you need to put your seatbelt on." When he said that, I fumbled with the gun and dropped it to pull the cloth over my chest. I heard him sigh, but he didn't say anything. I pushed the 5 magazines into the baggy pockets of my jeans and reached down for the gun, tucking it into my waistband, like I've seen gang members do. Wait, I'm a gang member now. Like I've seen _other_ gang members do. "Hey, kid." The car slowed, and I felt my heart race. What's happening? "Look over there." Troy lit a cigarette and pointed over the steering wheel. "VKs." There were three of them. Chatting and laughing. The sickly yellow just reminded me of the night when a gun was pointed at me. "Wanna test out your new piece?"

Instead of answering, I undid my seatbelt and got out of the car. I heard Troy call after me a few times, but I ignored him. The VKs didn't even notice me walking over until I stopped right next to them. The white one nudged his friend when he saw me.

"Check it out." He said, getting all of the attention onto me. "You lost, kid?" I gave him a nod, and one of the other guys laughed as he was smoking a joint, making him double over as he coughed.

"At least you're not flyin' any colours." The third guy started, ruffling my hair. "I've seen people get shot because they were representin' by accident." They didn't notice me fingering the gun in my pocket.

"You better get outta here, kid." I looked back up at the first guy. "Before some- Shit! Saints!" I turned to look, seeing Troy jogging over with a different guy in purple. One of the VKs almost threw me to the side as guns started to fire. I landed on my knees and rubbed the part of her shoulder where I was grabbed. I already had a bruise there, so that's gonna sting for a while. Pushing myself back to my feet, I checked the scene. Nobody was dead yet, with Troy and the other Saint hiding behind a low wall, and the three VKs taking cover behind random objects. The one who threw me was hiding behind a mail box, so I walked over, pulling my gun out of my pocket. Troy flicked his eyes over to me.

"The Saints are going to run these streets!" He yelled, probably trying the keep the attention on him. I really don't know where kill points are. I just held the gun level to the back of his head and pulled the trigger. It hit me in the chest, but the blood that sprayed the stone was a good sign. Low recoil _my ass._ As I bent down to pick it up, a bullet hit the stone near me, and I scrambled to hide behind the same mailbox.

"The kid just _shot_ Dom!" One of the VKs yelled. Well, I had them fooled for a few minutes. "He's a fucking Saint!" I don't know why so many people think I'm a boy, but it gives me good cover. I glanced around the corner and saw another VK fall. I levelled my gun, took aim at the last one, and fired. The bullet sunk into his arm, and he dropped his weapon with a shout of pain. Mine didn't hit me in the chest this time, because I used my right hand to stabilize it. Troy took that opportunity to finish him off. Leaning against the mailbox, I breathed out in relief and pushed my gun back into my pocket.

"Kid! Are you alright?" Troy yelled, his feet hitting the road as he jogged over. I nodded and gripped the yellow shirt of the VK I shot to roll him over. "What are you doing?" I rooted around his pocket and pulled out a fistful of crumpled green bills. "Ah. C'mon, before the cops get here." I have no idea where the other Saint went. I just felt the guy who was apparently now my caretaker pull me back towards his car. Only after he drove away from the scene did I look at the crumpled money in my hand. I don't think I've ever seen this much money in my life. When Troy sighed, he scared me. "Fuck, kid. Why'd you walk over to the VKs like that? They could've shot you in an instant."

"My shirt is white." He glanced at me. "I don't look like a threat."

"Yeah, alright. You're reckless." I didn't know what to say back to that. "Fine. We'll drop by Sloppy Seconds and get you a new hoodie. Purple, obviously." His eyes trailed over my bruised arms, but he still didn't say anything. "Christ... maybe the streets won't chew you up and spit you out after all, kid." Is that... is that a compliment? "How'd your first kill feel?"

"I was supposed to feel something?" Troy glanced at me again, fear in his eyes.

"Fucking hell. Remind me to keep you away from Johnny." Good. He looks like he'd hate me.


End file.
